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Withering - The Feeble Morning | Текст песни

This pain, it’s getting through me
Won’t it ever let me go
Won’t I have a chance to live without it

There might be something, something to wait for
A messenger, the word on it’s way?
Where’s the morning, no longer I can wait

It goes away now and then
The way out was never there
Can’t forget a single thing I’ve gone through

Facing all brings the pain again
The corpses in blood
All the innocent are in front of me (now)

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